The Long Road
by Amku
Summary: Hawke pledges to find a way to rescue Anders from himself, but does he want to be saved? In a world where templars rule with an iron fist and the magically inclined seek freedom by any means necessary, can there be any hope for the rebel?
1. The Exodus

**Plot: Follows the story of Hawke and Anders post DA2. Hawke is furious with Anders after his acts in Kirkwall, but how can you stay angry at a man that is so helplessly lost? Hawke pledges to find a way to save Anders from himself and separate him and Justice, but does Anders want to be saved?**

**Pairings (Subject to change as the story evolves): F!Hawke/Anders**

**Author's Notes: This story doesn't stay so angsty/fluffy. I just wanted to get the initial intro out of the way and get Anders and Hawke on the same page in the first chapter. The first several chapters are already written, so I hope you'll stick around. A quick note – in the long run, this story will shift a couple times unless I get swayed by reviewer's requests. If there's something that you would like to see added to the story, please say so in a review! I'll try to meet requests as I am able! =)**

**This story came to me not too terribly long ago. At this point in time, it is unbeta'd, so I apologize for any typos or misspellings. If there is anything that is out of place and you feel the need to let me know, just send it in a PM, please! Otherwise I look forward to reading your reviews.**

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><p>"How could you do this to me?" her voice was quiet in the dying twilight. Over the hills she could still see the city burning, tiny dots of ash floating toward the heavens as if to beg for the Maker's mercy. Her vision was blurry as she looked down at the blonde man kneeling at her dripping side. She rested bonelessly against a log, weakened from the loss of blood and the long battle.<p>

"I had no choice," he replied, his voice equally quiet and deep in concentration. His eyes narrowed and the blue magic dancing around his fingertips hitched. She could tell he was exhausted and was using the very last of his reserves to heal her. It didn't lessen her desire to scream at him, hit him.

His answer floored her and she slapped his hand away from the grievous wound. The templar's sword had nearly disemboweled her and probably would have had Fenris not tackled the unsuspecting man to save her life. She wondered briefly through her blood red haze if he would have done so had he known the treacherous decision she'd make only moments later.

His blood-slicked hand shot out and grasped hers painfully. "You can be angry at me," he said through gritted teeth, "when you aren't in danger of bleeding out."

"You had a million chances to tell me, you bastard!" she growled, ripping her fingers out of his and slapping him hard. His head snapped to the side, leaving trails of her blood across the side of his face. Instead of turning back to her, he sat and waited, listening to her angry words in the fashion of a man resolved to his fate. "Instead you killed countless innocents and sent an entire city into turmoil to save our people! And do you truly believe that what you've done will save us? Or do you not think that the templars will twist the chains even tighter around our necks?"

She gripped his chin and turned his face to her, her eyes dark with hurt and anger. "And you _used _me, you selfish, _selfish_man." He flinched visibly at her words. Angry tears stung her eyes and she dropped her hand from his face, turning away from his piercing gaze as if giving him permission to go about what he was doing. In a few short moments his hand was pressing to her side again and the healing magics surged through her abdomen, warming her skin but not curing the undeniably cold ache in her gut.

The calm sounds of nightfall soothed her as much as she could be soothed in her state. Just outside of the reach of her ears, she knew that the city was still in panic. In her mind's eye she could still see the buildings burning, children weeping over the corpses of their parents who were crushed under the debris of the fallen Chantry, or worse, parents weeping for their children... Her dog, dead and left to rot... A tear rolled down her cheek. So much loss...

Anders' magic dwindled in mere moments, her wounds closing as much as he could afford under his body's strain. For several long moments after the nearly unbearable itching of her mending flesh had subsided, Anders sat, his hand still loosely pressed to her side.

"I'm sorry." His voice was nearly carried off on the wind to join the embers and souls of the city as they floated to the heavens. "I'm so sorry. His voice... It won't go away. And when I think it has it worries me even more because I'm terrified that I just can't tell him from me any longer."

The unmistakable shudder of sobs shook his hand as he shifted it to rest on her belly. She glanced over to him in intrigued irritation. She didn't know what to make of the mage. Sometimes she could swear that he was beyond help, other times she thought he was worth saving. She hadn't decided how she felt now. After another set of sobs rocked the broken man's shoulders, she sighed, setting her hand on the nape of his neck.

"It's ok, Anders," she said soothingly, forcing aside the words that she wanted to say. "What has passed has passed. There is nothing we can do to change what has happened, but we can work together to fix the future."

His battle tousled hair pressed against her arm as he sank against her side, not caring that her blood was soaking into his mantle. The position felt intimate and it made Hawke shift in discomfort.

"I am unworthy of your friendship," he hiccuped and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He looked so very much like a child that it made her heart hurt.

She had been disgusted by the idea of Anders' dishonesty, his duplicity against her when she had been one of the so very few had given a damn about him. The thought nearly sent her to sending him away in retribution after the destruction of the Chantry, but she had quelled the urges. Now she found herself smoothing her hands through his hair to comfort him. "Shut up," Hawke replied quietly without malice. "Now is not the time for self loathing."

He hung his head lower, his nose brushing against her thigh. "How can you be so forgiving?"

"Who said that I have forgiven you?" she paused, watching as his watery brown eyes lifted to hers with a frantic look. That look told her more about his mental state than she would ever want to admit; it was as if she were one of the only things still holding him together. "You will have to earn my forgiveness," Hawke added levelly.

"Then I will do whatever it takes, I swear," he said, his fingers curling into the fabric of her leggings, "Just don't send me away from you. Please. I would rather you kill me than send me away."

"I will not," she softened. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a loose hug. "I will help you, Anders. We will figure out how to save both you and Justice."

He clung to her helplessly. She had never seen Anders in such a state before. It honestly scared her. How long had he been so close to snapping? Such an overwhelming sense of guilt fell to her shoulders. Could she have prevented the whole ordeal? Had her negligence of the rebel mage been to blame for his rash actions? She bit her lip as doubt swirled in her mind, gnashing its razor sharp teeth at her excuses. Pushing the thoughts aside, she rested her chin on the crown of his head.


	2. The Plan

**A/N: Nothing new to report really… Enjoy!**

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><p>Sunlight filtered through the tree branches overhead, scattering light across Hawke's face. She wrinkled her nose in protest of the intrusion and shifted, her hands loosely gripping...feathers? She cracked an eye open as she remembered last night. Anders was still curled against her chest, one hand snaked under the folds of her robes and resting on her rib cage.<p>

She paled and shifted, tugging on his hand. Anders groaned in his sleep, turning slightly and opening his eyes. After several disoriented blinks he started, ripping his hand out of her robes and sputtering apologies. "Oh, I'm so _so_ sorry. So sorry. I would never intentionally do that. Well, I mean - I'm not saying I _never_would. I would never do that without your permis-"

"Anders!" she croaked, shushing him with a finger and trying to hide her embarrassment behind snippiness. "It's ok. Just get off of me."

"Right! Yes!" he scrambled off, nearly falling over in the process. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands over his eyes still trying to shake the sleep from himself.

Hawke looked at him and rolled her eyes with a laugh that wasn't much more than a snort. She'd never seen him more flustered. The reaction that he gave was something more akin to what she'd expect from someone like Sebastian. "You sound like Merrill."

"What in the Maker's name makes you say that? Because I woke up with my hand in your clothes and am completely terrified of you singing off my eyebrows?" Anders questioned.

She couldn't help but laugh at his explanation. "I don't play with fire. You know that."

"Fine. I don't want to get pummeled me with a giant boulder. Better?"

"Fair enough," Hawke yawned and shifted. She was stiff from the position she had slept in, and the few possessions she had managed to salvage from her estate were currently pressed to her back in a small knapsack. Her clothing was stuck to her side, the blood from her healing wound flaking off and fluttering to the ground. "Yuck. I could stand a bath," she paused, "Oh, wait." She looked at Anders with a raised eyebrow that practically screamed 'Thanks for that.'

"There was a spring nearby, was there not? And the coast isn't too far off, though I don't know how much you would enjoy bathing in saltwater..." he said quickly, pointing in the direction of the spring that they had passed as they parted ways with the remaining members of their merry band. Hawke may not have remembered seeing it. She had been nearly unconscious as he had carried her from Kirkwall and said farewell to their companions.

Getting them to leave her had been a monumental task. He couldn't stand to have parted with her, and he wasn't particularly sure if he would have handed her over without a fight. He had hastily claimed that they were lovers and that he wouldn't leave her side. That certainly wiped the smile off that smug elf's face, he remembered with an inner grin. He had conveniently left that little lie out when he explained what had happened to Hawke later.

She had been furious with him for letting them leave the way they did. There was nothing he could have done differently, he had explained helplessly as her small, battle-weakened fists thumped on his shoulders as he carried her as far away from the city as he could. It was a lie. He could have given her to the elf and walked away. He could have saved her from himself and his downward spiral. It was just as she said: he was selfish. The worst part is that he felt no remorse for his decisions. He wondered that if Justice hadn't been in his mind if it would be different. He shook his head as he realized that he couldn't even tell what he would do. The spirit was so firmly woven within him that to ask himself such a question seemed ridiculous.

"Can you show me the way to the stream?" Hawke asked with a look that told him that she'd been talking to him for some time now.

"Of course!" he said, scrambling to his feet. "Of course, it's this way." He pointed off a bit to the southeast. "It's closer to the coast. Very pretty waterfall really. Runs right into the sea."

She picked up her staff and slid it into the strap on her back. "At least I was able to salvage a few things before we had to leave the city," she said solemnly, pulling a small vial of soap from her knapsack to show to Anders before tucking it away again and tossing the bag over her shoulder. "I don't have much, but there should be enough for both of us for a little bit."

Anders glanced at her as he held a few errant vines out of her way. "What else did you bring with you?" he asked curiously. She had held the pack to her chest as if she was afraid it would simply disappear from her hands if she set it down.

She looked embarrassed as she explained. "Just stupid stuff, really." At his quizzical look she elaborated, "A violin, for one... When I was very small, my father spent a fortune to get it for me. I had begged for days after I had seen it at the stall of a traveling merchant who had happened to wander through Loathering. Dad was afraid that I wouldn't learn the instrument and that it would be a waste of money. I swore that I would learn, so he bought it. And I did. And it was one of the only things that I had salvaged from Loathering. Now it is one of the only things that I managed to get from Kirkwall."

"I didn't know that you played an instrument," he gawked at her. "Why have you never mentioned it?"

"Because I haven't played for anyone other than my dad," she answered, pushing the hair out of her eyes. That wasn't entirely true. She had played for Fenris. On the nights she had taught the former slave to read, she would sometimes play softly for him as he read. Much had been left unspoken between them... She smiled sadly at her memories of him. She noticed her companion watching her and continued, "When I was first learning it sounded like a dying bird. It was awful."

Anders smiled at the ground warmly, his amber colored eyes full of mirth. She rarely saw that smile on his face and she couldn't help the happiness that it rose in her gut because of it. It was refreshing to see that some pieces of him were still untouched by the burdens of his life. She pondered what Anders had been like before his merging with Justice. She had heard that he was practically silly. She could barely imagine Anders acting that way now...

"I will play for you sometime," Hawke promised, "Only if you swear you won't laugh if I mess up."

"I wouldn't do that," Anders replied. "If the rest of you is any indication, I'm sure that you play beautifully."

Hawke blushed furiously at his praise. "Thank you."

"What else did you bring with you? From Kirkwall, I mean," Anders asked, recalling that her bag seemed to carry more than a single violin.

"Ordinary things. Food stuffs. Water skins. A few beauty supplies," she wiggled the vial in front of her, "And my father's pipe."

"A pipe?" Anders asked. "You smoke, too?"

"I do," she nodded, "Not often though... My father had carved the pipe himself. I always thought it was beautiful," she replied, picking at her fingers.

"You have a lot of good memories of him," Anders replied. "You are very lucky that your parents were able to keep you. I wish I had been able to stay with..." He trailed off and Hawke knew where his thoughts were headed. It wasn't a safe topic. Not with Justic in the picture.

"She must have been a great woman," Hawke placed her hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

He nodded. "She was beautiful. The reddest hair you've ever seen, and so long. It fell down her back in a tangled mess," he chuckled. "She refused to wear it up. Said it made her face look funny."

After a thoughtful pause he continued, "She was a good mother. When I first started to show signs... When the templars noticed... She had cried, begged them to leave me. They had to _subdue_her in order to take me." He scowled, and for a moment, Hawke swore she could see a bright blue flash in his amber eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories," Hawke said quietly, tightening her grip on his shoulder.

"Oh, no. The memories of my mother are some of the happiest of my life," he continued, his voice growing tentative, "Save for some the memories I have of these past years... with you."

Hawke sputtered. This wasn't the first time today that Anders had her blushing.

Anders only chuckled under his breath in response. "I don't mean to anger you."

"I'm not angry." Hawke replied warily, "You just... confuse me." She didn't like where this conversation was going. She truthfully didn't know if she could handle a man with so much emotional baggage, and Anders was so flighty she couldn't even tell was he was after. Maker, how did her mind jump to the finish line?

"What's there to be confused about? You're a beautiful woman, Hawke. Surely I've made that clear enough," Anders replied simply. Sexuality wasn't confusing for Anders. It was straightforward. Or so it seemed.

"You've made that clear. But it doesn't make it less confusing," Hawke answered, directing her eyes at anything but the blonde to her left.

Forced silence hung heavily over the pair as Hawke all but slunk beside her companion. The unbelievably awkward nature of their brief conversation and its implications plagued her. Anders didn't even attempt to soothe her worries. Why would he need to? He had already made his desires clear.

The scenery couldn't pass them by quickly enough for Hawke's tastes. Thankfully it wasn't long before they were walking beside a painfully shallow stream that quickly grew waist deep. In the distance beyond a drop off she could see the sea. In the mid day sun, the water sparkled and danced happily around rocks, and layered just below the merry sounds of water tinkling she could hear the distinct sound of a waterfall just as Anders had told her.

Leaning down to skim the crystal clear water with her fingertips, she set her pack on some stones and pulled out her bathing supplies: the vial of soap, a small scrubbing cloth, and lavender oil. She was determined to make the vials last as long as possible. At least until they made it to the next town. The thought brought up an interesting question.

"Where do you want to go, Anders?" Hawke asked, turning to face her companion and paling. He had already shucked his boots, pulled off his overcoat and shirt, and was working on the laces of his trousers. She gawked at his surprisingly broad and muscled chest. She never would have guessed by looking at his robes that he was so...robust. There was a fine dusting of red-gold hair across his chest and stomach, growing more defined as it dipped to the waistband of his pants.  
>"Maker!" Hawke stammered, throwing her hand to shield her eyes, but not looking away. "Warn me next time, yes?" She scrambled to her feet and walked toward the tree line. "I'll let you go first."<p>

"You could just join me," Anders said, throwing the thoroughly embarrassed woman a roguish smile and pulling the tie from his hair. His ruddy gold hair fell into his eyes and Hakwe nearly bit her lip to keep herself from swooning.

She held her hand out to cover his lower body from her sight and shook her head, her eyes wide. "I don't think that would be a wise choice."

"Oh, come on." His grin widened and she could not remember ever seeing him wear that smile. It was purely predatory. It... suited him. That smile nearly ended her, but as suddenly as the lust hit her gut, a shot of cold clarity ran up her spine. All she could think of was Fenris' warm arm wrapped protectively around her waist, the hazy blue of his lyrium tattoos barely visible in the red tinged twilight of her room.

She shook her head with a forced smile and made her way for the tree line and settled against the roots of a massive oak, pulling her staff out of it's straps to rest on it. She heard the unmistakable sound of laces untying and soon the splash of him entering the water. She sighed and picked at the bark of the tree, hoping to keep herself from peering around. She knew that to look at what lay on the other side would be a terrible mistake, but her curiosity was eating away at the pit of her stomach. He tried her self-control and he knew it, the bugger.

"You asked me where I wanted to go..." he said nonchalantly from the water.

"Yes, I did," she said shakily, pulling of a small chunk of the bark. Hadn't Merrill told her that the trees around Kirkwall were alive? Well, more so than trees normally are. The thought of the tree picking her up by the collar of her robes and tossing her over the waterfall made her fingers stop short before they tore off another piece.

"Where do _you _want to go?" he asked in return. She heard another set of splashes and she figured he was exiting the stream.

She breathed deeply, trying desperately to scour the images of his naked body from her mind. "The only thing that I'm concerned about at this point in time is getting help for you," she replied quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. There was a lack of noise for a bit and she called out in curiosity, "Anders?"

"I'm here. It's safe to come out now."

Using her staff for support she stood on shaky feet and rounded the tree. He was perched on a large rock in only his unlaced trousers. His hair was still dripping, the long strands hanging in his eyes. He looked completely distraught. She was shocked at how quickly his mood changed. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Hawke," his voice cracked, "There is no 'helping' me. Whatever has happened has taken root so firmly..."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Anders," she said quietly, "We will find a way."

She settled on her haunches next to the rock and placed her hand on his knee. "I had been researching ways to solve this... problem. Have you ever heard of the case of Connor Guerrin?"

"The Arl of Redcliffe's son? Of course. It's a famous tale," Anders responded. "My commander in the Wardens had actually been the one to help the child."

"Then you _know_ it can be done!" Hawke grinned triumphantly. She had read the accounts, but was never sure of their validity. "He was possessed _unwillingly_and she was still able to save him. Wait! You're commander was the-"

"Yes, she was the Hero of Ferelden. _Is_ the Hero of Ferelden," he said, shying away from Hawke's widened eyes. "I never told you because this," he gestured, circling her face with his finger, "is what normally happens." He paused as she closed her still-gaping mouth then continued. "More importantly, what you said is kind of my point. Collin was an unwilling host. He made the transition difficult for the demon. _I_ let Justice in. _I_held nothing back because I feared nothing."

"But don't you see? This means that there is hope for our cause." She raised her hands up to his cheeks and smiled. "I will help you _and _Justice. We can make this work."

Anders suddenly found himself unable to look at the hopeful gleam in her eyes. Trying to push the conversation forward, he continued, clearing his throat, "You are aware that she's now busy being the queen of Ferelden, yes?"

"Yes, but I'm sure she could spare some time for us. You know her after all"

He could already see the pieces coming together in her mind. She would ask him to come to Ferelden with her, to go to Denerim and see Elissa. Though Ferelden was better to its mages than Kirkwall and the Free Marches, he was still a wanted man there. He was still an apostate seven times over. There was little doubt in his mind that he'd be made Tranquil if he were to be captured again. And for Marian to be harboring a fugitive and to be an apostate to boot... His blood boiled at the thought of any harm coming to her.

"We cannot go to Ferelden," he said firmly. "We _cannot_."

She blinked, her eyes narrowing. "And why not?"

"I am an apostate, and, in case you've forgotten, so are you. They _literally_know me by name there," he said desperately, rubbing the space between his brows where a headache was starting to form

"Yes, and you are also a Grey Warden. They could not touch you even if they wanted to."

"It hasn't stopped them before," he grumbled helplessly.

"It will be different this time, I promise," she smiled sincerely.

"And what in the Maker's name is different about this time?" he asked, clearly becoming aggravated with the direction of the conversation.

"I am with you," she said seriously. Her fingers had curled around his jaw and she pressed her forehead against his. "I will let no one have you."

He clenched his jaw as his emotions flitted from irritation to disbelief to longing. He felt a stirring in his chest that he hadn't felt for the longest time. His stomach felt like it flipped and before he knew what he was doing he turned his head, pressing his lips to hers.

She made a sound of surprise, but didn't pull away. After a few short moments she responded to his advances in earnest. Her lips were clumsy, but Anders found it endearing. He pressed into her, probing her lips experimentally and driving his tongue into her mouth as she granted him entry. She dug her hands into his hair, weaving her trembling fingers through the strands. He immediately felt his body react to her touch, her lips. This kiss was probably the purest thing he'd ever shared with anyone in his life. Her touch told of her desire to _give_, not take. The sensation was unfamiliar.

Anders had an unhealthy relationship with relationships. He knew this. He was okay with this. He would rather have a string of one night stands with a slew of satisfied lovers in his wake than one long relationship that ends with two very unhappy people. Long term had never been part of the equation. But Hawke... He knew that she was not the kind to have a one night stand, or to sleep with someone and act like it never happened. To his knowledge, she had not even bedded anyone during her time in Kirkwall, though she and the elf had gotten close for a time.

Before he even knew what to think, she had pulled away as quickly as the kiss had begun. She held her trembling fingers to her bruised lips and watched him with glazed eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I didn't mean to cause offense."

She dropped her forehead to her hand and sighed. "You tie me up in knots!" she growled. It had been three long years since Fenris. The memory of his touch was fading, but the ache was still present.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated, holding his hands up in front of him.

"I will bathe and then we can make our way to Denerim, yes?"

Anders only nodded in response and headed for the tree line, grabbing his discarded clothing before he went. He didn't bother looking over his shoulder. He didn't want to tempt himself more than he already was. He brought his hand up to his lips to rub away the feeling of her. It didn't work.

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><p><strong>AN: Things are too complicated. Hopefully things will get simpler soon, yes? …Yes?**


	3. The Meeting

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews I've gotten so far. And also thanks to those who have just poked around! Enjoy!**

**Update: Hurk! Was just pointed out that I doubled the ending on this chapter. Thanks to Anesor for the note. /facepalm**

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><p>"I understand that your audience with the queen must be pressing, but her schedule is filled for the day. If you would like, you may wait and see if she can squeeze you in later," said the immaculately dressed man at the queen's study. He turned pages in the appointment book at his fingertips. Even his fingernails were pretty, Hawke thought as she realized that she hadn't bothered to clean her own nails. She tucked her hands away delicately in the folds of her dress and watched as he confirmed the queen's packed schedule with a curt nod of his head.<p>

_Snooty bastard. _Hawke nodded at the man with a small smile as he looked down his nose at her.

She had begrudgingly spent a small fortune on a new dress to play the part of a lesser noblewoman from the Free Marches. They still had no idea how far the news of Kirkwall's peril had travelled. She couldn't chance being spotted and captured. Hell, she didn't even know if she was being accused of anything. The idea was hopeful, but then she remembered Sebastian's face red with hurt and anger. She cringed at the thought, but sighed and cleared her mind. If she could just get close enough to the queen she could drop her guise, for Anders had said that she was a reasonable and caring woman. Surely she would understand their plight.

"Thank you, Meserre," she said, dipping in a small curtsy before walking back out into the waiting room.

As soon as she rounded the corner she slipped out of a side door leading in to the castle's gardens. If the queen's quarters had been up the stairs behind her assistant, then her window should be... that one! Hawke looked around her for a moment, making sure that no one would see her. In a split second she popped off her heels and slid the loops of leather over her wrist so she could hike her skirts and scale the stones of the wall. Improvisation. Hawke was rather good at it.

In a matter of moments, her head popped over the window sill and she glanced (to her great relief) in to the queen's quarters. At a large desk sat a woman with impressively long, ebony locks. Her small nose was wrinkled as she scrutinized her choice of words and her pouty pink lips were pulled down in to a scowl of concentration. She wore a full set of royal armor save for gloves and Hawke was reminded of Fenris who rarely took off a single piece of his armor for fear that Danarius would be lurking around the next corner, even after his former master had been slain by his own hand. In her hand was poised a quill and to her right a pot of ink was dwindling away under her extensive use.

All of that was fine and good, but there was a big problem, one that Hawke had not considered. The window was closed.

Feeling like a fool but seeing little choice she steadied herself on the sill with one elbow and tapped at the glass with her free hand. The queen startled, dropping her quill and cursing as ink slopped over the page she had been working on. Her sharp, powder blue eyes cut to the window sharply. Not sure what else to do as the queen looked ready to call for her guards, Hawke raised her hand, waving and flashing a weak smile.

The queen's eyes narrowed, but her eyebrow quirked in question. Pushing her chair out and approaching the window in a a few long strides, she looked down at Hawke, obviously deciding whether or not to open the window. She was truly an intimidating figure. Her armor gleamed in the sunlight, nearly blinding Hawke as she scrabbled to keep her grip on the sill. The Warden's gryphon was emblazoned across her breastplate, a dark blue standing in stark contrast to the nearly white silver of the surrounding metal.

"Excuse me, I hate to bother you, but I have a favor to ask of you. From an old friend," Hawke asked as politely and quietly as she could muster.

"I will unlatch this window and let you in, but know that if you try anything untoward you will make me quite cross," she said, flipping the latch on the window and swinging it open. "You've already made me spill ink on my missive."

"I'm very sorry, m'lady," Hawke said sincerely as she pulled herself into the window with a grunt. "If this matter wasn't so pressing I would have waited to speak with you at a time when you weren't so busy."

The queen seemed amused as the woman sprawled across the floor in her expensive green gown. Hawke picked herself off the floor, nearly ripping the hem of her dress in the process, and extended her hand, shoes still dangling from her wrist. "Hawke. Marian Hawke, at your service."

"Elissa Therrin," the queen replied, gripping Hawke's hand firmly, but cautiously. "Tell me, Hawke," the queen seemed to try the name on for size, "What is so important that you scaled my wall to tell me?"

"Ask you, actually," Hawke cleared her throat nervously. "Well, you see, m'lady-"

"Don't call me that. Just Elissa, if you will," the queen interrupted, swiping a long swath of bangs from her eyes.

"Yes, right. You see, Elissa, I am traveling with a mage. A Grey Warden mage. Anders."

The queen's pretty eyebrows crept up her forehead. "Are you now?"

"Yes," Hawke nodded. "And I'm looking for information. On a ritual actually. A ritual you performed."

"You're speaking of the incident of Connor, the Arl of Redcliffe's boy," the queen answered, already knowing where Hawke's story would lead.

"He has... merged with a spirit," Hawke finished.

The queen looked disappointed, her black locks swaying as she shook her head. "I knew something foul had taken place between Justice and Anders. I had received a report of their disappearance from my Seneschal in Amaranthine after Warden Commander Caron secured the keep when my duties in Denerim called," the queen said sadly, shaking her head. "Anders is a good man, albeit terrified of commitments and obligations."

She rounded her desk, assessing the damage done to her letter by the dropping of her quill. "Caron rules with an iron fist. I believe that Anders was looking for any way to get out of his duties to the Wardens and out of Caron's grasp. It is unfortunate for him that he will never truly be free of what he has become." The queen frowned at the page, "It didn't help that the bastard took away his cat. I gave it to him, you know?"

Hawke smiled politely at the queen's jest but continued nonetheless. "M'lady- Elissa... Is there a way to reverse the process?" Hawke begged.

Elissa seemed to consider her for a moment. "When I saved Arl Eamon's son, the boy had been possessed by a demon. What resides in Anders is a spirit. While they are similar in many ways, they are also very different," Elissa replied.

"I've seen a merging of spirit and body that has benefited both parties only once. I've seen joinings that were utterly detrimental to the human host and spirit many, _many_times," the queen shook her head again and her eyes lifted to look into Hawke's. "I do not mean to offend, but Anders is not pure enough to harbor a spirit. He is a soul merely wafting in the wind of this life, taking to one fancy after the next. Justice is so singular minded, as is the way of the spirits of the Fade. Neither he nor Justice ever stood a chance of creating a peaceful union."

"Do you think that there is any chance of this ritual working?" Hawke asked, her determination faltering in the stark truth of the queen's words.

"I do not know, Hawke, but for Anders' sake I shall try. I speak only the truth when I say that even the ritual with Connor was sheer happenstance. A million other outcomes could have come to pass as the events beyond the Veil were a vicious trial. I'm unsure as to what you would encounter in Anders' corner of the Fade."

Hawke swallowed. "If we are to try this, do you believe that there is there a way to save Justice as well? I don't know if Anders will part with him on any other terms."

"A spirit needs a host to thrive, but if I remember correctly from my studies they can be transferred to _objects_as well. If you bring me an appropriate object for Justice to live in, a weapon, piece of armor, maybe? It may work. It may not. I have no way to know for certain.

"All I do know is that I will _not _transfer a spirit to a living host. Never. Justice will have to be happy with what he gets. It was his poor decisions that got him where he is now at any rate."

Hawke nodded in understanding and agreement. "I shall find something suitable. Is there anything else I'll need to do to prepare for the ritual?" Hawke asked, fingering the leather of her sandals worriedly.

"You will need to prepare yourself," Elissa replied simply. "As a mage I know you walk the Fade's halls frequently, but this will be unlike any trial you've faced before, I'm sure. You must find the strands of Anders and separate them from Justice, every strand."

Hawke steeled herself and nodded. "I have endured such trials in the past. For Anders I will do this."

Elissa gave her the saddest smile she had ever seen and Hawke found herself immensely confused because it felt as if the queen looked at her with pity. "I'll need to acquire the lyrium we will need and arrange a proper meeting place. I will contact you within the week. Where will you be staying?"

"The Gnawed Noble. We will stay as long as you need," Hawke bowed to the queen. "Thank you so much. Words cannot express how deeply our gratitude runs."

Elissa smiled lopsidedly and Hawke decided that she liked this woman very much. "Let's see if you'll be thanking me after the ritual."

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><p><strong>Ending Notes: More action in the next chapter, I promise. =)<strong>


	4. The Reunion

**A/N: Still writing a couple chapters ahead, but trying to get them hammered out before I post. I'm still not certain if I even really like this story yet, but we'll see. I'll at least finish it because I know where everything is leading at the moment.**

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><p>The trip to Ferelden was long, but not entirely unpleasant. The temperature had been nice, the sea catching just enough breeze to cool the blistering effects of the summer sun. His company had been overly quiet, but that suited Fenris just fine. He wasn't one for frivolous conversation anyhow.<p>

After he had separated from his companions in Kirkwall, he had found himself wandering. It was sheer happenstance that he ran into Sebastian on the road from Starkhaven. The dethroned prince was headed to Denerim to gain support from King Alistair and Queen Elissa. Starkhaven had frequently offered their services to Ferelden; Sebastian said that he felt that his chances would be higher there than anywhere else since Kirkwall was in no condition to offer him any support. Fenris had found comfort in the religious man's conviction and certainty, and was in awe of his ruthless determination. They were alike in many ways. With nowhere else to go and no one else to go with, Fenris had offered his hand and asked nothing in return. What else could he possibly do?

The ship docked in Highever where they purchased steeds and made their way to Denerim. It was fortunate for them that they had acquired so much coin during their time in Kirkwall; though Sebastian was technically royalty, he was also a newly retired chantry brother without a princely bit in his purse. Hawke had convinced Sebastian to keep his earnings, putting them in a small chest in her estate "just in case". Fenris doubted he kept all of the coin though. Knowing Sebastian, the man surely tithed some amount of the money. Fat lot of good it did in the long run.

Despite what everyone said about Ferelden, it didn't smell like dog. Too much, at least. The country was still recovering from the Blight ten years after its terror. Abandoned farm houses littered the countryside. Entire towns were still empty. It was strange to see, but the Blight's effects could linger for some time, so he assumed that it made sense.

"Have you wondered what I will do when I find them, Fenris?" Sebastian asked as their horses ambled at a comfortable pace on a long straight stretch of road. The road was wide enough for both horses to trot side by side and the elf was able to see the prince in his peripheral.

"Have I? No. I think that your intent is quite clear," Fenris replied.

"And this doesn't bother you? I noticed that you and Hawke had grown mighty close for a time."

Fenris pulled his brows down in a thoughtful pause at the priest's careful observations. None of their companions had noticed the relationship that had flowered between him and Hawke, however short the engagement was. "What happened between me and Hawke is years old and long forgotten. By both of us."

"I see." He didn't sound thoroughly convinced of Fenris' explanation.

The setting sun filtered over the treetops and in the distance Denerim peaked over the horizon. Only a few more hours and they would be there. No need to set camp.

"I cannot be forgiving. Not after what happened. You of all people know this."

For the first time in a long while, Fenris turned toward his companion with knitted brows. "I understand."

"It doesn't matter at any rate. Only the Maker knows where they are or will be. If they will remain together. I pray for Hawke's sake that she will wise up and leave _him_to rot."

"As do I," Fenris replied under his breath.

* * *

><p>The noise from downstairs was driving Anders mad. He used to thrive on raucous laughing and singing, but these days it only grated his nerves. Justice <em>hated<em>this place and because of this, so did Anders. It had been three days since Hawke had met with Elissa. Three days since he had left this room. And still there was no word from the queen. He was going stir crazy.

The tension between him and Hawke didn't help matters. They still hadn't spoken about what happened. He highly doubted she would ever want to, and, though he clung to her like flotsam to the stones, he believed that he was alright with that.

Hawke lounged on the bed carelessly, a book perched in her slim fingers. Though her book was still poised for reading, he could feel her eyes on him. "Is everything alright? Do you need something?"

"Air. This place is driving me crazy," Anders grumbled. He paced the floors between the fireplace and tub anxiously.

"We can't go out. You know that," she said sympathetically, shifting her weight to her elbow so she could prop herself up.

"Maybe just a late night walk? We could be careful. Wear our cloaks. Leave our staves," Anders looked at her pleadingly.

Hawke worried her lip between her teeth and sighed as he pulled out the puppy dog eyes. "Fine! But a short one," she said as she snapped her book closed and rolled onto her side. "Guess it's only fair."

Anders seemed to brighten as she stood, tossing her book on the bed and looking up at him. "Are you ready to go?"

"Maker, yes."

Hawke pulled her boots on and fluffed her short hair with one hand. "Cloak, please."

Anders fetched their cloaks from the rack in the corner. His was dark blue. Hers was a dark forest green. He tossed hers to her waiting hand and rounded the bed to grab his staff. He shoved it under the bed in case anyone happened to poke through their room while they were gone. He did the same with Hawke's and pulled the fabric of his cloak over his head, covering his face.

"Here we go," he smiled, nearly dragging her to the door.

Hawke stalled and pointed to the window. "Wouldn't that be a better choice?"

* * *

><p>The rooftops were quiet as Hawke skimmed over them with ease. She snorted as she realized that Isabella had taught her more than just the story about the man from Orlais. Anders didn't have the dexterity that Hawke had, but he trailed at her back as well as he could manage.<p>

"Slow down, blast it," Anders grumbled quietly. "We won't be very stealthy if I tumble off a roof onto my arse."

"Hey, you said you wanted to get out. You didn't specify _how_," Hawke grinned at the mage over her shoulder as she found a spot overlooking the alleyway beside the tavern. "Will this do? Did you want to go further?"

Anders listened experimentally, trying to see if he could still hear the commotion from inside. "This is fine. I'm just ecstatic to feel a breeze on my face."

"Great!" she said and fell to a seat on the shingles.

The moon was heavy in the sky, the fat orb hanging low on the horizon. The white light fell onto the scenery so brightly that they could easily make out every detail of the street below.

"Have you decided what you want to bring to the ritual?" Hawke asked, turning to her companion.

There was a long pause and for a moment Hawke wondered if Anders had heard her. "I haven't decided. No."

"Is everything alright?"

"Justice doesn't like the idea of being trapped. I can't say I don't blame him. What I would do to him would be no different than what is done to mages every day. Trapped in a place they can never leave..."

Hawke had to dig her nails into her palm to keep herself from saying something she would regret. "Anders. This must be done. You both made your choices, and this is the outcome. There is no other way."

"Yes, there is," Anders replied, shaking his head. "I took him in. I can keep him."

"You know as well as I do that isn't an option."

Anders sighed. Just as he opened his mouth, they heard a strangled cry from below.

"Shut up, bitch! You dress like that, you only beg for it," a gruff, drunken voice slurred.

"Please, ser!" a young voice pleaded. "Stop!"

Just as Anders went to rise, Hawke stopped him. "I'll go. You can cast from here if I need it."

Hawke crept to the ledge and spied a man digging his hands into the folds of a girl's dress. She was crying, scrabbling to tear away from the larger man's grasp.

"Stop squirming!" he growled, slapping her hard enough to snap her head to the side.

Hawke's blood boiled at the sight. In a flash, she dropped to the ground beside him assuring that her face was masked by her cloak. Before the man could respond, she gripped his hand painfully, stopping his movements. Her hand glowed red, fire itself being called to her palm. "Take your hands from the girl and leave now or I will end you myself," Hawke growled, wrenching the man's hand further.

He cried out in pain, letting go of the woman. "Witch!"

"That's right. Take yourself away from this place unless you'd like a greater taste of my wrath," she said, throwing his hand away from herself and holding up her other glowing fist defensively. She moved in front of the girl to protect her and nodded her head towards the mouth of the alley. The man gripped his wrist gingerly, the outline of Hawke's hand burned into his flesh. The fresh scent of piss filled Hawke's nostrils and her lip curled in disgust. With little more than a strangled cry, the man ran away toward the pub.

* * *

><p>Sebastian had gone in to secure their rooms while Fenris had offered to grab their bags from the stables. Fenris pulled the cargo from the backs of the horses when he heard a noise.<p>

"You dress like that, you only beg for it."

His eyes narrowed._ Another lowlife preying on the helpless._

He propped the bags up next to the horses and rounded the pub, sliding between the buildings as quietly as he could. He was never one for stealth like that damned pirate. He pulled his sword from its sheath on his back and tested its weight in his hands. It'd been weeks since he had taken it up. It felt _good_.

Around the corner he could see the pair, the girl struggling against the man fruitlessly. Just as he was preparing to sink his blade into the man's back, a body dropped mere feet in front of him. Fenris pressed up against the side of the building to avoid being seen. The figure grabbed the man's arm, the hand turning red at the palm. _Mage_, Fenris seethed. Thankfully the mage was at least doing some good.

"Witch!" He heard the man nearly sob.

"That's right. Take yourself away from this place unless you'd like a greater taste of my wrath." Fenris blinked at the woman's voice. That was... familiar. Though the woman's face was shadowed, her name flashed through his head, but he shook the thought away vehemently. Such a coincidence surely couldn't' happen.

As soon as the man scurried back to the pub, the figure turned her attention to the girl who was cowered against the building.

"It's alright, child. He's gone. You're safe," she said, placing her hand reassuringly on the girl's shoulder. She flinched away from her hands.

"You're a monster!" the girl cried. "Stay away from me, mage!"

It was the hooded figure's turn to flinch as the girl's words stung her just as surely as a blade would. The girl gathered her ripped skirts to her and ran away toward the pub. The figure's face followed her, pulling the cloak from her head as she did so.

Black locks spilled into her face, messy from her hood. They framed her dainty jawline, a piece falling across her nose. She was just as he remembered. Her impossibly blue eyes seemed sad as they watched the girl run.

For a moment, Fenris nearly forgot his anger. Sheathing his blade, he rounded the building, coming into the open. Hawke's eyes shifted to him, her fingers twitching at her side and bursting to life with magic. He knew she could conjure a spell in less than a second if need be. But the spell fizzled out as she took in his face.

"Fenris?"

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><p><strong>Ending Notes: *whistle* Not much to say actually. So, uh… how's the weather? PS: I despise the formatting on this site.<strong>


	5. The Capture

**A/N: Thanks very much for the favs/reviews/watches. I appreciate every one.**

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><p>"Fenris?" she asked, eyes widening. Her eyes shifted up to the roof of a nearby building and Fenris' own eyes followed hers just in time to see a hooded figure leap to the next building.<p>

Fenris _knew_who that was. "You came here with him?" he growled.

"Fenris, please. You must understand," Hawke pleaded. "He needs _help_."

"He needs a fist in his heart," he replied, his voice dripping with venom. "And you're coming with me." In a few short strides, he grabbed the collar of her shirt, tugging her to him.

"What are you doing?" Hawke nearly squeaked.

"You and your _pet_will get what you deserve, Hawke. You cannot do what you did and get away without retribution."

"Why does everyone keep saying that? Technically I wasn't even knowingly involved in what happened," Hawke scowled, scrabbling to get out of his hands.

Fenris tightened his grip on her collar, pulling the fabric taut over her neck. If she didn't think he was serious before, she knew it now. "Letting him live was enough." With a shove, he ushered her to the door.

"If you were this angry, why didn't you just cut me down in Kirkwall?" Hawke said venomously. She wouldn't use magic on him. He knew that. She knew that he knew that.

Fenris remained tight lipped, continuing to drag her to the door. "See how loyal he is to you? He runs the minute trouble arises, leaving you to your fate."

"Actually, no. I was waiting for you to get distracted," Anders' voice came from behind. Not _quite _Anders' voice.

Fenris hissed and pushed Hawke to the ground, pressing his foot into her spine to keep her in place. Hawke gasped in pained surprise and squirmed under him. He unsheathed his blade and turned only to be struck backwards by a mana bolt. The scales of his armor sparkled as the magic singed him.

He skidded to a halt, steadying his feet. "You will pay_,_abomination," he growled.

Anders eyes burned a bright blue as he took a defensive stance. The cracks of his skin vibrated with potential. Hawke could _feel_ the Fade inside of him. The power there scared her. She'd only felt it a few times before, but this time was the most _potent_. It was so intoxicating that she nearly forgot to roll away from Fenris' foot, but as soon as he was righting himself, she had started to crawl toward Anders.

"_Anders_!" she cried, tugging at his overcoat. "Please, control yourself."

His eyes cut to her briefly, but he wasn't Anders anymore. "Stand down, Hawke. This one has required judgment for some time." He swung his staff as quickly as lightning, sending another mana bolt hurling toward the elf.

Fenris, not one to be outmatched, dodged the projectile using his sword to balance his movements. In several long strides, he crossed the alleyway, swinging the weapon in an arc toward Anders' chest. Anders moved with inhuman speed, stepping back and bringing his staff around, cracking the head of it against Fenris' temple.

Fenris' movements stuttered, the strike leaving him stunned and stumbling. Anders lifted the bladed end of his sword to the elf's chest.

"Hey! Stop it!" Hawke cried, grasping Anders' leg, her hands igniting with magics that burned through his leggings and into his flesh.

With a howl he turned his rage to her. "I am saving your life and this is how you repay me?" The blade was turned to her, pressing into her chest with heaviness.

Hawke's eyes widened, "Anders, please. I know you're in there. No one has to die."

"They're back here!" Hawke heard from the mouth of the alley.

"Maker's balls," she huffed, her attention split between the blade at her chest and the girl she had just saved with the templar at her heels.

The templar took in the scene and in a moment's notice was on Anders, sword drawn and magic-nullifying abilities sucking the power from his reserves. The area was like a void, the Fade itself being blocked out. Hawke felt her own magic being yanked from her grasp as forcefully as she'd ever experienced.

"Stand down, demon!" the templar cried, raising his blade to Anders' throat as the mage fell to his knees.

Anders' eyes flickered back to their normal amber hue and he gasped in a sickly breath. "Hawke, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I would never hurt you."

Hawke didn't say a word. She merely sat in the dirt, stunned by her loss of magic and so very grateful that the blade was no longer at her heart.

"Stand up!" the templar barked, pressing his blade closer to Anders' pulse. A thin line of blood trickled down his neck. "You too, witch," he indicated to Hawke with a nod of his head.

Hawke paled. She wouldn't fight the templar. He was only doing his job. She couldn't kill him for that even if she had the reserves to do so. She stood on shaky feet, gulping as the templar grasped her neck painfully, dragging her beside him.

Behind Anders, Hawke could see Fenris finally stand. He was still dazed, but at least appeared to be understanding what was happening. For once, Hawke knew that Fenris would not help her. So she watched helplessly as he stood, his face a blank mask. She frowned, turning her eyes toward the ground.

"Fenris!" she heard a familiar voice from the direction of the pub. "What in the Maker's name...?"

"Stand back. I'm escorting these apostates to the Chantry," the templar said firmly, holding a hand out to halt the newcomer.

"Oh, Maker. This is rich," she heard the man laugh. It was Sebastian. How perfect. The sound nearly brought tears to her eyes. She had never heard him sound so ruthless and uncaring. "I come back here because of these two and we _find _them here."

The templar shifted, placing a hand on both Anders' shoulder and hers. His grip was as hard as steel and as cold as ice and she knew that if either of them tried anything at all, he'd sap them dry again and probably kill them.

"Sir, who could I talk to about having these traitors returned to the Free Marches with me?" Sebastian asked hurriedly before the templar could usher them away. If Hawke drew her eyes from the dirt, she'd have seen the wolf's grin on his face.

"You can speak with the Grand Cleric if you'd like. At a more reasonable hour perhaps." The templar ground his fingers into Hawke's shoulder, urging her forward. "Move your feet or I'll drag you, wench."

Hawke shuffled forward obediently.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," Anders said pitifully. "I'm so, so sorry."

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><p>The growing stack of paperwork was starting to spill over her desk. Elissa growled. She wished she could have gone abroad with Alistair. She knew it wasn't an option, but to be stuck here was torture. The morning sun was spilling into the window and already she felt like crawling back into bed.<p>

Three short raps on the door made her sleepy head jerk back up from a particularly long missive from Gwaren requesting an audience to discuss trades or some such nonsense.

"Yes? Come," she said quickly, rubbing the sleep out of her eye with the back of her hand. "Elijah?"

The haggard servant entered the room, shutting the door immediately. His shoulder length black hair was tousled from his recent excursions. "M'lady, I have bad news concerning your charges." The young man stood in the doorway, twisting his cap in his hands.

"Yes? Go on, please." Elissa had been preparing the lyrium required to complete the ritual for Anders. Acquiring so much had been a problem and she was still waiting for her shipment from Orzammar.

"They were captured last night by the templars."

"Shit," she swore. "How many know of this?"

"They are being held in the Chantry under the direct supervision of the Knight-Commander."

"Shit!" she repeated loudly, making the messenger jump. She stood, the legs of her chair scraping the floor with a screech. "Have they made their intentions clear?"

"They plan the Rite of Tranquility, ma'am," Elijah replied.

At this, Elissa pulled her gloves on, buckling the armor in place. "Thank you, Elijah. Send word to Geoffrey that I will be out until later today, no appointments. And go get some sleep."

With that, the queen exited, making her way for the Chantry.

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><p>Fenris had searched Hawke and Anders' room thoroughly. He closed the unlatched window and retrieved their bags, poking through them to find anything nefarious. Hawke's bag was clean, containing only her violin, some books and letters, and her father's pipe. His brow furrowed as he turned the letters over in his hand. It felt unfair to read her personal effects, but did it truly matter at this point? He swallowed thickly at the thought.<p>

He put the letters aside and picked up the violin. He scowled, his brow furrowed. She never had a case for the thing. He was surprised it had survived all of these years and still played properly.

-o-o-

_"And th-then the Maker sealed the gates of the... Golden City," he swallowed and paused to glance over the sentence. "And there, he... dwelled, waiting to see the won... wonders his children would create."_

_"Maker, Fenris," Hawke said with widened eyes. "You're doing so well. I'm so proud of your progress."_

_"Thank you," Fenris coughed under her praise._

_"We need to find you something besides the Chant of Light. Perhaps something else you want to study?" She moved, settling back against a few scattered pillows, ignoring the small pieces of rubble that still littered the mansion's floor. _

_"I enjoy reading the Chant," Fenris admitted, flipping the page._

_"Then continue," Hawke smiled, drawing her bow over the strings of her violin, drawing beautiful, quiet music from the previously dormant instrument._

_-o-o-_

Fenris growled and slid the instrument back into the bag. Snatching up her staff, he tossed the bags over his shoulder and heading back to Sebastian.

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><p>Who'd have thought the Chantry would have a cell? Certainly not Hawke. She guessed it made sense to serve as an in-between for mages passing through to the Circle. For the first time, she wished desperately that she had learned shape-shifting magics from the Chasind in the Wilds near Loathering. It'd be much easier to escape if she could just become a mouse or something.<p>

Anders sat like a lump in the corner, still massively traumatized from nearly running her through. Given the circumstances, she was glad that he at least felt bad, but, Maker blast it, it would be helpful if he added his thoughts.

"Anders," she whispered, prodding him.

He didn't respond.

"Anders, for fuck's sake, I forgive you. Now talk with me. _Please,"_she begged in a hushed voice. When he still didn't respond, Hawke propped up against the bars of the cage. Her eyes turned toward the ceiling as she thought about her predicament. She had survived nearly 30 years outside of the Circle as a free woman. Now she faced not only life in the Circle, but tranquility. Anders was right. It is no viable option for a mage who isn't completely in love with self-loathing. She sighed, resting her head in her palms.

In the distance, she heard the clicking of armor on stone. Someone was coming and they were coming fast.

"I was informed that there were two apostates retrieved," she heard a familiar feminine voice.

"Yes, my Queen. This way," a voice replied, their footsteps struggling to keep up with her blistering pace.

Hawke listened as the steps became more defined. At last the pair rounded the corner and Hawke watched as the queen strode up to their cell. Her long hair lay untamed at her back and she looked down at them with arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Bring me the Knight-Commander," she said to the accompanying templar. "And bring me the keys to this cell."

"M'lady? These are _dangerous_apostates," the templar challenged as timidly as one could.

"Ser, I may be the queen, but I am also a Grey Warden. I will not sit by idly as the Chantry assumes control over one of our own." She turned her icy gaze toward the templar. "Now go and fetch the Knight-Commander and the keys."

The templar, looking much like a dog with his tail between his legs, hurried from the room.

At her words, Anders finally turned, his eyes wild. "Elissa? What are you doing?"

"They have no right to keep you, Anders. While you denounce the Wardens, you are still one," Elissa replied.

"You can't leave Hawke here. They will make her _Tranquil_!" Anders said through gritted teeth.

Elissa looked at Hawke with pity. "There is nothing I can do for her Anders."

Anders was quiet for a moment before his eyes widened. "The Rite of Conscription!"

"I've already considered that and it won't work," Elissa said sharply.

"Why?" he all but cried.

"Oh, where should I start? Well, firstly it will appear that an already precariously positioned queen is using her Grey Warden status to save renegade apostates from their fate. I'm taxing that path by saving you and you're already a Grey Warden. Secondly, I cannot give mages in Ferelden more ideas than they've already formed since the tragedy in Kirkwall," she paused, frowning deeply at Anders. "Yes, I received word yesterday and after this I will not hear from you again. Understand?" At his angered nod, Elissa turned to Hawke.

"I'm sorry, Lady Hawke. I wish there was more I could offer you."

"Don't be sorry. I understand," Hawke swallowed. So much for the timely rescue…

* * *

><p>Fenris and Sebastian had headed to the Chantry early the next morning in hopes of retrieving Anders and Hawke. The marketplace had yet to fully open, vendors still setting their wares on the stalls and a few servants ready to purchase items for their houses.<p>

"Elissa, _please. _You have to do something," they heard as they neared the Chantry along with a series of sobs. "You can't just leave her_._"

"Shut. Up. And walk," a voice replied. "I'll already get an earful from the Grand Cleric later."

As they rounded the corner, they watched as a red-faced Anders was dragged along, hands in chains, by a woman in impressive Warden armor. Sebastian immediately recognized her for Elissa Cousland, now Elissa Theirin. The queen. A Gray Warden.

It took him only moments to realize what had happened. He was being returned to the Wardens. The worthless _bastard_was being returned to the Wardens to pretend as if everything he had done, everyone he had killed, the chaos he had caused, hadn't happened.

He walked up to the duo, thrusting his finger in the queen's face. "What are you doing with this abomination?" Anders closed his watery eyes, shaking his head at Sebastian's words.

The queen glared at him in irritation. "Prince Vael. It is nice to see you again."

Sebastian fumed at her pleasantries, "You haven't answered my question."

"I don't know why people keep forgetting this, but I _am_a Grey Warden, Prince. This man is a Grey Warden and immune from any attacks by the Chantry."

"Attacks by the _Chantry_? How about the attacks he's made toward it?" Sebastian hissed. "The man in your care is a bloody _murderer_!"

Fenris stood at Sebastian's back, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold.

"He is by no means a free man, Prince Vael, I can assure you of that. But his fate is the Wardens' to decide. Not the Chantry's and not yours," the queen said seriously. "If you have a problem with this, you can speak with the Commander of the Grey."

"Where is Hawke?" Fenris asked before Sebastian could continue.

"She is at the mercy of the templars, I'm afraid," the queen replied, looking clearly unhappy about the outcome.

"I see," he replied, seemingly unfazed. "It appears as if you can add another casualty to your list, abomination."

"Hawke chose her fate. You lie with dogs, you _will _get fleas," Sebastian added.

"They won't kill her," Anders replied, sadly. "They will make her Tranquil. A fate so much worse than death."

"Now if you'll excuse us," the queen walked past the pair with Anders in tow.

Sebastian held his tongue and walked back toward the inn, but Fenris didn't notice...

Hawke had said when they had encountered Karl, Anders' friend, that she'd rather die than be made Tranquil. Fenris remembered Knight-Commander Meredith's assistant. The mage vendor in the Gallows. They all seemed... dead inside. He couldn't imagine Hawke like that...

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><p><strong>Ending Notes: I've rewritten the ending about four times. Still not sure if I'm happy with this chapter or not, but what is done is done! Hope you enjoyed =) Also, I apologize for the -oooo-s I had to use to separate Fenris' thoughts. FF has quite possibly the shittiest editor on the face of the planet. <strong>


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